From This Day Forward (You're Probably Screwed)
by Merida's Hair
Summary: Facing deportation, Regina Mills finds a simple solution: Marry Emma Swan, her long-suffering assistant, and then divorce her before anyone's the wiser. But nothing's ever that simple, is it? Based off the movie, "The Proposal." Swan Queen.


**A/N:** A Swan Queen fic based off of the movie, _The Proposal_. That being said, some elements of the story are completely AU, and some are familiar. And even though this is technically in the romantic comedy genre, there will be some angst because well, _Swan Queen. _The fic starts out a lot like the movie, but does veer off a lot. I have some excting things planned! Special thanks to _foreveranevilregal, corasparasol, _and_ kgork94 _for their _completely_ amazing beta-ing! And I hope you all enjoy, and please do leave review if you have questions or comments.

* * *

"Oh my god."

David looks up from his morning paper, his focus broken from the results of the _Storybrooke High Knights vs. The Kents Hill High Huskies _to find his wife staring with wide eyes at her laptop screen, her coffee mug just inches from her lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Mary Margaret places the coffee mug down and stares at the screen for several moments, scrutinizing it as if it were one of her student's assignments. After a moment she points at the screen, her movements exaggerated enough to make David actually worry. He puts the paper down completely.

"Mary Margaret?"

She turns to him with the most confused expression he'd ever seen on her, and his worry simmers down just a bit. She wasn't upset, just confused. The world isn't going to end today: Always good news.

"Emma's getting married!"

His mouth opens and closes without saying a word and his eyes widen like a lemur's. He tries to find the appropriate words, but they all get blocked up in his throat with less intelligent questions of _how why what where….when did? _Because he distinctly remembered teasing a barely grown-up Emma about the subject and her very defiant refusal to even consider the notion, and her refusing to speak to him the rest of the night. And, he doubted that five years in New York City of all places would change her mind, but apparently he didn't know his daughter very well—If he ever really did.

"Oh, and who's the lucky guy?" He says as calmly as he can, but it still comes out a little bit strained.

She points again to the screen in earnest. She covers her mouth with her hands, and the motion makes her seem seasick. Her voice soft and shrill at the same time, coated with astounded bewilderment, she reveals:

_"Regina Mills, David. __**Regina. Mills." **_

If David had a drink of his own, he would have spat it out. He stands up immediately, and walks over to the computer himself, his mind working into full overdrive. When he gets his weekly, and if he's lucky bi-weekly emails from his daughter, almost all of them are about how her "evil queen of a boss" is driving her crazy or driving her to exhaustion that week or all of the above. And his replies for that matter are usually along the lines of _quit and come home for a little while, Em_ to which he either gets a solid _no_ or no response at all. She comes home once a year for Henry's birthday party if she can, and that's it.

"But she-!"

"I know, sweetheart, I know!"

Mary Margaret looks back at the computer and her eyes widen further. "They're _both_ coming for Henry's birthday party_!"_

"Are you serious?"

"Why would I be joking about this, David!"

He sits in the chair next to Mary Margaret, taking her hand either to offer support or get support, he doesn't exactly know. His brow furrows in concentration as he tries to figure out what this means. For all of them. Will Emma come back home or live in New York permanently? He couldn't imagine someone so…_domineering_ like Emma described being content in a town like Storybrooke.

Suddenly, Mary Margaret jumps up, letting go of David's hand in the process.

"Well I think it's just wonderful!"

Mary Margaret's smile is strained by the worry still evident in her eyes, leading David to decide that it most likely _wasn't_ wonderful, but Mary Margaret would _make it wonderful_ even if it killed her.

"Honey-"

"When Emma does something reckless like this, it's usually because of some extreme emotion. And what could be more extreme than love?" Her smile takes on a forced excitement in the abrupt widening of her lips, and she grabs David's hand again.

"But what about Ne-"

Mary Margaret gives a slightly pained look before giving an equally pained smile. "Emma's in love. We're going to support her life choices, remember our pact? Our lack of doing so drove her away in the first place."

David sighs and decides it's a good time to pour himself a cup of coffee. There's a lot of sense to what Mary Margaret is saying, but he can't shake the feeling that something is off about this, and he has a feeling Mary Margaret can't either.

"I hope so, M&M, I hope so."

* * *

The alarm clock noise is the most annoying noise Emma Swan's ever had to deal with.

And she lived with a newborn baby for a while.

Emma reaches over without looking and managed to topple over her glass of water from the night before before her hand finally settles on the old alarm clock, and breathes a sigh of sleepy relief when the long high-pitch beeping finally _stops_. There are a couple of seconds of peaceful silence as Emma reacquaints herself with her comfortable sheets and blankets, yawns, and listens to the ongoing traffic and beeping and at the old man who lives underneath her yelling at the little boy who lives on top of her to stop throwing water balloons off the balcony.

And then, just before dream Emma gets to finally kiss dream Tricia Helfer, her eyes spring open as reality finally hits her. She turns her head towards the clock. _8:45_. Shit. Shit shit _shit_ _shit fuck. _She is going to get _murdered_. Tomorrow the headlines will feature promising young future editor, Emma Swan, with her heart ripped out of her chest cavity and thrown into the Hudson River. No, Regina would be way less subtle. She'd be lying across the torch in the hand of the statue of liberty for all to see. She hobbles her way into a pair of black pants and brushes her teeth simultaneously, all the while coming up with new ways of how she would die that day if she doesn't move _faster_.

She was an absolute _idiot_ for discussing travel plans and vacation—sort of vacation, as much as a vacation back home could be—plans with her fretting mother last night when she knew she had a huge stack of paperwork to get through. An absolute _idiot._

She gives up on her hair for the day and puts it up haphazardly in a bun—resolving to fix it during her break—and tucks in her periwinkle shirt as she locks up her apartment for the day.

The streets of New York City are absolutely relentless, and the smell of fresh bread from the bakery across the street hits her stomach as she realizes she forgot to grab a bagel on the way out, and a putrid combination of yesterday's trash and small rodent feces causes her stomach to turn over uncomfortably and she swallows the pain to weave through cars apparently, in order to meet her demise as soon as possible. Because there is no way she's going to make it. _No way at all._

And then, after five excruciating minutes of her heart racing, her thighs burning despite all the recent weekend aerobics, and almost getting hit by at least two taxicabs and three toyotas, she opens the door to Starbucks. And is greeted by wondrous, wondrous divine intervention in the form of a cute redhead at the counter waving her over with two identical cups of coffee. She takes a deep, gratifying breath, and silently praises her past self for the little bit of flirting she did the morning before. She's going to make it on time. She's not getting flayed alive today.

She runs over to the counter, thanks the girl profusely and dashes out the door.

Today's going to be okay.

It is. It _has_ to be.

* * *

And Emma spoke too soon.

She stares at the growing stain on her shirt with shock and disbelief, thinking about how just two minutes ago she managed to narrowly miss running into her coworker on the elevator, and two more coworkers getting off of the elevators, but she still _somehow_ got taken down by a tiny guy from the mail room who didn't watch his back.

She glares at the guy in question, and he cowers at her apparently withering glare. And shit how much time _has_ she been spending with her boss?

"Watch where you're going, asshole!"

The guy scampers away like a scared mouse after muttering an apology, and Emma almost feels sorry, but she's just so _frustrated _that she can't muster up any regret at the moment. She sighs, it may come later, it may not. She stares at Regina's ruined coffee cup and her own untouched one, and quietly mourns both. She gingerly places the untouched coffee cup on her cubicle and dumps the other one in the trash.

Emma takes a deep breath and catches the time: _9:15_. Five minutes. She walks over to Kathryn, her co-worker and sort-of-friend who always wears fashionable various shades of green and yellow, and splays her hands out on her desk.

"Kathryn, give me your shirt. I know you've got an extra one in your drawer because _you're_ actually prepared for life's shitstorms."

Kathryn stops typing to raise a brow.

"What did you do, trip over the hopes and dreams of rejected authors?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "Something like that."

Kathryn's lips quirk up, and she leans back in her chair with her arms crossed.

"You can say _please_, you know."

Emma rolls her eyes again and tries a more urgent tone, eyeing the clock with growing anxiety in the pit of her belly. "Kathryn, please. I'll do anything short of murder. Because if I'm not in that office looking 'presentable', _I'm_ the one who's going to get murdered." Emma's eyes soften in that way that used to get her dad to get her ice cream when mom said no, and the ones that belong to her little brother when he asks her for the same or to go on some adventure that would get them _both_ in trouble with their parents, never mind the fact that Emma is twenty-eight.

Kathryn appears to contemplate for a solid three seconds before she eases Emma's pain, and thank god for kind coworkers with good fashion sense.

"You don't need to get me anything, Emma. And she's _not_ that bad, you know. I bet she doesn't like those crude nicknames you all call her."

Emma groans as she grabs the lemon colored shirt, ducking behind her own cubicle to change and not even caring if people happened to see. She places her own ruined t-shirt in an unused drawer.

"She fired this one girl for printing something in the wrong format!"

Kathryn sighs. "Rumor."

"A probably _true _rumor. You forget I'm the one she criticizes _every single day."_ Emma jumps up and adjusts her shirt. Her hair is probably a total lost cause by now at this point.

"And _you're _forgetting that she's a woman, Emma. Not a demon, or spawn of Satan, or an Evil Queen."

Emma grouches as she tries to wind stray hairs into a bun and uses her other hand to grab the papers she'd printed last night. A woman, definitely. A_ very attractive_ woman with eyes that could probably literally kill and a woman that rocks a power suit in a way that makes Emma's lower region uncomfortable, well, there was _that_ issue, but that issue just complicates her already vastly stressed-out and complicated life, so she just doesn't think of it ever, instead she breathes and tries to take Kathryn's advice and try to remember Regina is very much _human _and has feelings, hoping that reinforcing the thought will make this a bearable day after all. Pleasant thoughts of Henry's little boy smile, fishing by the docks, and every _good_ thing associated with Storybrooke flits through her mind like a slideshow. She hopes that her thoughts of her upcoming (well-deserved) sort-of vacation will be enough to sustain something like a good mood.

Probably not, considering all the other memories that made her want to move to another state in the first place.

She throws on her blazer, and tugs it forward, before looking over at Kathryn once more.

"Thanks. Wish me luck."

She walks over to the door labelled: _Regina Mills - Editor in Chief_ with purposeful, "I-totally haven't-fucked-up-at-all" strides, opens it, and closes it behind her with a _click_.

One minute to go.

* * *

The moment Regina walks into the room, her employees are set in a flurry, to throwing away junk food, adjusting ties, and return to their assigned cubicles. By the time she passes by, each employee is red faced with downcast eyes or trying, in vain, to look like they're doing actually something productive. All except the loyal like Kathryn Midas—who merely gives a small wave, one that Regina does not return, while she continues her _real_ phone call.

She almost laughs as she casts glares toward their comically panicked faces, and watches them wither in fear and revulsion. The revulsion she could live without, it causes her chest to twinge without permission, but the fear is necessary. Fear means she's keeping them on their toes and keeping the business and her day running smoothly. Fear has been the base of her operations for too long to let go of now.

She glances at one of the computers, a familiar message written in the chat box:

"_THE MONSTER IS HERE."_

Honestly, as if they think they can keep their quaint little on-goings from _her?_ She didn't get the derogatory moniker of being an evil monarch from her long-suffering assistant for nothing. She had eyes and ears and _spies_ everywhere. It is the one place she can control, and so she will. They were lucky they actually did their work when they needed to, or Regina would have hired a new staff long ago. She glances at another screen The _thing?_ What was she, an Addams Family character? A caricature?. That idiotic twinge came back, and she stifles it and ceases to pay any more attention to these cretins as she finally enters her place of peace, her office.

More or less.

Emma Swan is downright _fidgeting_, even if she tries to hide it with a sturdy expression. However, she is handing Regina her cup of coffee and her files for the day, so Regina silently resolves to question her at a later time.

"You have a 10:00 O'Clock appointment with O'Brian today, and a meeting with Mr. Glass at 11:45. Also, the three manuscripts Donaldson looked over are on your desk."

Regina sits in her chair, revelling in the memory foam for a moment before eyeing the three manuscripts. Two of them have terrible titles, but the third is promising. _The Liar's Heart Doesn't Lie_, by August T. Booth. Wait a moment. She's _heard_ that name before. She picks up the manuscript and flicks her eyes up dangerously at a waiting Ms. Swan.

Emma looks at her with wary curiosity, her arms behind her back, waiting at her beck and call as usual. Even if she despises her, at least Emma is desperate enough to keep her job. If Regina fires her, it would be near impossible for Emma to get another job. And if she quits, it would be hard anyway with Emma's deplorable attitude, even if she does do decent work. Not that Regina would ever tell her that second part. Ms. Swan must be kept on her toes.

So _this_, would be fun indeed.

"Ms. Swan, is this the author from your hometown?"

She flicks the manuscript's cover up, and Emma peers at it, feigning surprise.

"Yes. Yes it is."

She purses her lips and places the manuscript beside the other two before drumming her fingers on the desk and pretending to contemplate. She raises her brow in Emma's direction, seeing the nervous side step she does and her continually stoic expression before sliding the manuscript into the recycling bin. Emma starts, ready to probably shout an explective or something of a slightly more professional nature, but Regina stops her with a hand.

"He is a friend of yours, Ms. Swan, and I've repeated several times that I would not allow special treatment for any friends or family of employees."

Emma purses her lips and crosses her arms. "He went through the system, Regina_._ Donaldson actually _did _read the manuscript and gave it to me to send on to you. He's just a good writer, whether you like it or _not_."

Emma takes a moment to stare Regina down with as much defiance as she could muster, and the room became quiet enough to hear employees goofing off in the nearby break room. Regina doesn't want to be the first to look away, because of course that would lead to Ms. Swan doing that smug little smirk of hers she thinks Regina doesn't notice and would saunter off to speak with Kathryn Midas or another one of her friends, and Regina can't have _that_.

Luckily Emma values her job more than her dignity, so she takes a deep breath, sets her lips into a line, breaks eye contact and un-crosses her arms, placing them behind her back once more.

"Just ask Donaldson if you think I'm lying, Regina. And do you need another copy of that file I just handed to you?"

Regina smiles slowly. "Make it two, dear. Also, since I'm expecting another stack of manuscripts by the end of the day, I'm going to need you to work the weekend."

Emma's eyes widen. "The weekend?"

Regina smiles thinly. "Will that be a problem?"

"I mean, it cuts into my vacation time, you know, the one I've declined for _four years straight_, not that I'm angry or anything, no not at all of course, and I guess, well it's almost a month anyway, so it should be fi-"

"So not a problem, then. Get the copies, Ms. Swan."

Emma nods and catches Regina's eyes with her luminous ones and tries to convey as much resentment as she can, resentment Regina returns in kind without so much as blinking. Emma taps her foot a few times, and Regina folds her hands together.

Emma nods again, curtly, and _finally_ exits the office.

Once she's gone, Regina can let out a breath. Somehow she's always nauseatingly exhilarated by their little exchanges. Her heart is racing like she's been running a marathon, and honestly how _sad_ is it that the most exciting part of her day is arguing with her simpleton assistant? The rest of the day is just dealing with idiots and more idiots and finding a shiny new author who can live out their dreams while she goes home to her cold apartment containing a frame photograph of her father in his treasured tweed suit, and a man she hadn't spoken of in years.

It was something to be pondered at a _much_ later date.

Regardless, she would talk to Donaldson and have him re-read the damn manuscript off only to make his day more miserable. He still owed her for that time he let a stack of joke manuscripts from as-of-yet-unidentified employees actually managing to get to her desk. She would have fired him, if not for the higher-ups wanting to keep him.

She takes a sip of her coffee, noting with displeasure that the heat was mostly gone at this point, and a number scribbled on the side. "_Call me - Cassie". _She raises a brow. She doesn't know a woman named Cassie, definitely not. She flicks her eyes up at the door where Emma exited, and resolves to get the full story from Kathryn Midas before she leaves the office.

She opens up one of the other manuscripts, _The Blue Envelope_, and begins to read, a pen in hand.

* * *

Emma bangs her head against the break room wall.

"Careful, you're going to lose brain cells."

Emma turns around as Kathryn takes a bite out of her ham and cheese sandwich, and sighs in exasperation. Of course, in her morning scramble to get here on time she forgot her roll of vending machine quarters. Oh yeah, and her mother was going to send bird assassins after her for not being there for Henry's birthday party. Not to mention she's going to have to deal with his grump-face for the next three weeks.

"I'm also going to lose _my head_ one of these days."

Kathryn chuckles. "You're pretty upset for someone who's getting out of here soon, Ms. 'Screw-you-I'm-taking-all-my-vacation-days-for-the -last-four-years-whether-you-like-it-or-not."

Emma's shoulders sink down and she starts drumming her fingers against the plywood, wishing she at least had a donut or something. "It's not that, she just drives me _crazy_. I can't deal with it. I _won't."_

Kathryn shrugs and moves on to her green apple. The apple reminds Emma of 11:00 PM honey crisp apple runs at Whole Foods, and a scowl fixes on her face. If she never sees an apple again, she'll be the happiest person _alive_. She sighs wearily. She _needs _to get Regina Mills out of her head. Too many of her daily thoughts are _Regina this_ and _Regina that_ and occasionally _wow she has nice lips _when her mind decides to be traitorous. She needs to get out more. Have a drink with a friend. (_Ha_, friends). Call up August. (Or maybe not, she was feeling pretty shitty that even though August went through each rung, Regina was _still _being a hardass, just because she took too much enjoyment in making Emma's life miserable). Or call up Ruby or Graham, even.

Maybe this vacation would be good for her, even if it means facing matters in Storybrooke she'd rather leave un-faced forever. Like August, and how he's going to bother her about the book deal. Like Neal "I-love-you-but-I'm-going-to-stand-you-up-the-nigh t-we-leave-to-embark-on-a -new-life-together" Cassidy, the fact that her mother is going to probably invite him over at least once, or maybe she's _finally _given up that crusade. Or her mother herself, and all their history of disagreements and Emma being a disappointment, and the screw-up kid that stumbled through school and everything else, and all that baggage, and how going back to Storybrooke feels _so _much like giving up because of everything she's done to stay in this city and be someone more than Storybrooke, and wow Emma needs her morning coffee before she can process _any_ of this.

"So don't."

Emma gives her a sharp look. "You know I can't quit this job."

Kathryn shrugs again. "There are other jobs."

Emma shakes her head almost violently. "_No._ No. I am _not_ starting out on shit-tier again. Regina would never give me a good referral if I quit. Hell, she'd probably blacklist me."

Kathryn takes a huge bite out of her apple, using the time where she can't speak to stare at Emma like she's about to be chastised, and Emma can't help but feel like the corresponding fifth grader. She'll never quite understand Kathryn or her certain protectiveness of Regina, but the entire office has stopped trying to get her to join in on their complaining, and she's stopped trying to get them to quit with the nicknames. They're at an impasse, but Emma's glad she and Kathryn talk sometimes. She's friendly, even though she can rival Regina for snark, and gives rationality to situations where Emma finds none. That and Emma is rarely talked to (besides daily complaining), because they know she can out them about any wrong-doings to Regina at any chance she gets. It's like a damn high school.

"Emma, just think about your goals. Regina is a fair person, despite her reputation, and won't fire you without reason. And _will_ promote you _with_ reason." She smiles, deviously, but her eyes sparkle with mirth.

"I think she hasn't promoted you because she likes having you around too much. _Not_ even to mention how much she enjoys telling you what to do." She waggles her eyebrow and takes another bite of the apple.

"Shut up, Midas."

Another chuckle, and Emma's face meets her arms with another aggravated sigh.

Kathryn has a sigh of her own and gives her a banana from her lunch bag.

"You need it more than I do, Swan."

Emma lifts her head to give a grateful smile, before plopping her head back on her arms once more.

* * *

There are coded signals in the office of _Royal Guard Books Publishing_, done through the art of colored post-its.

Blue is Regina is out sick—one rarely saw blue—green is she was leaving for the day, yellow is that a book deal went through, pink is a book deal was lost, and red, well… red is someone is about to get fired. Meaning, Emma has to be a witness and do damage control. And when Emma returns from her lunch, her stomach full of banana, only just a little bit hungry, and hair finally under control and emotions slightly askew, she sees a line of red post-its down the row and anxious stares from at least three of her co-workers.

She rolls her eyes, and sits in her cubicle, fully intent on making the copies and editing Regina's schedule and then going back to her office in order to check phone calls, but she hears the tell-tale sign of arguing and knows this isn't office-wide paranoia after all.

She crosses the office, feeling a little bit like she was Katniss having just volunteered for the Hunger Games.

Inside is a familiar sight. Richard Adams, one of the editors, and a supreme asshole who's main reputation consists of misogyny, racism, and asking every single woman on the floor out—Emma included—is leaning on Regina's desk, trying to intimidate the boss and completely failing. Regina's hands are folded in front of her, and she's giving Adams one of her famous smirks. One that lay between irritation, amusement, and pure danger.

"You can't fire me, _Mills_. I'll have you know that I have _much_ more standing with this company than an uptight, evil _bitch_ who takes her anger at being alone out on everyone else, when in reality she's too busy _bitching_ to actually get a life outside the damn office.

Adams is fuming, breath heavy, and face red, and he is about going to get his ass handed to him.

While she was terrified of this happenstance at first, Emma does find some sort of sick satisfaction in watching Regina singlehandedly take down assholes who deserve to be taken down. And so, instead of being angry at Regina's lack of humanity, Emma is cheering her on this time.

Upon seeing Emma's arrival, Regina's eyes flick over to her and silently and yet unsubtly dismissing Adams's attempted intimidation.

"Ah, Ms. Swan. I was about to call you." She swiftly rises from her chair, gracefully striding across yo Emma, in front of her office door. She gestures to it with a slowly forming half-smile and a lift of a brow.

"So what do you say, Mr. Adams? Are you willing to leave my office with at least a shred of undeserved dignity left, or shall I have my assistant call security and have you gawked at by your former co-workers as you're forcefully removed from my floor?"

Adams' eye seems to twitch, and he fixes Emma with an equally intimidating stare. His caterpillar mustache just makes him look like a disgruntled version of Emma's old gym teacher, and she raises her own brow and crosses her arms in retaliation. _Yeah, nice try buddy. _She cocks her head towards the door, and it's freaky both how similar her and Regina are standing and how well they work as a united front. This only happens when dealing with employees like this one, and the few times Emma has shared her opinion on a book and it hasn't been discredited, or when they're working after-hours sitting across from each other in Regina's office, and wow for how much they despise each other, their symbiosis _is_ freaky.

Adams pauses for a moment and quietly seethes. He shakes his head and mutters something before straightening his mismatched tie and grabbing his briefcase.

"Dyke." He hisses to Emma. "You're just as soulless as _this_ monster."

Clever.

"You'll regret this, _Ms. Mills_." He fixes Regina another glare and she keeps her eyebrow raised, pointing at the door with a slender finger. He makes an indignant noise, and finally leaves the office. After the familiar click of the door, Emma finally lets out a breath.

Jesus, this _was_ almost like high school. _Cross me, and you'll find all your gym clothes stuffed into the toilet_.

Regina rubs the back of her neck and purses her lips before shaking her head and going back to her usual position at her desk. The phone rings before Emma has a chance to question the situation, but she can't help but sneak glances at Regina. She was just called some really shitty things, and yet she seems completely unfazed. It mystifies Emma every time, and she sort of wonders how many shitty things Regina has had to hear to be able to have such sturdy, steel walls.

The thought almost makes Emma feel bad for the times she's been not such a stellar person to her. Almost. Emma's had to put up with some bullshit herself, but just a reminder of her most recent near midnight run and August's book causes that empathetic voice of hers to take a nap.

Sidney Glass' enthusiastically nervous chatter is what greets her on the phone.

"Her 11:45 needs to be bumped up to 11:30?" Her eye catches a quickly turning agitated Regina, and she sighs.

"Thank you, Mr. Glass. I'll inform her right away."

Regina gets up from her desk with a noise of frustration, and puts on her sharp blazer before taking a moment to primp in the mirror.

"So-"

"Stay here, and answer the phone as usual. Did you make my copies?"

"They're on my desk in the main offices."

Another noise of frustration and Regina gives her a long suffering look. Emma meets her gaze head on, but it's clear that the prospect of this meeting hasn't put her in a good mood.

"_Get them._ Now."

Emma gives a tight lipped smile and goes off to the copier machine, wondering when it'll be the last time she ever does.

* * *

"Ms. Mills, congratulations on Ms. Brooks' recent novel! I've already read several articles mentioning how absolutely awe inspiring it is! Truly a marvel."

She's certain that the book had gotten at least three more terrible reviews than decent ones. She also fairly sure that out of all the reviews Ms. Swan has brought them "awe inspiring" was _definitely_ not an adjective to describe Abelman's new novel, but Sidney's eyes are shining with pride and his smile is so sickeningly bright that Regina almost flashes him an irritated gaze before remembering she has to be gracious. She smiles widely, one that ensnares everyone she's had to effectively dazzle, and Sidney, with his woefully simpering crush on her, is at her beck and call with a small smirk and lean in his direction.

Pathetic.

And—catching the eye of the new face in the room—she was not in the mood to play games today. This pointless meeting was taking valuable time she could be spending trying to _do her actual job._

She steps closer to the desk in front of her. "Thank you, Mr. Glass. Frannie Brooks never fails to please readers and reviewers. Except, well, of course the _New York Times._"

Sidney visibly gulps as she silently communicates for the meeting to continue, trivial compliments aside. The book is published, money is being made, and she's done her job. Brooks' next book will be a success, and then the next one after that.

Sidney clears his throat and indicates the woman next to him. "This is Ms. Casey Bradley from the Citizen and Immigration Services Office. She has come to reveal some…_.issues_ with your visa application."

Regina purses her lips and crosses her arms. She'll have a field day yelling at Ms. Swan for this one later.

"Issues? I turned in everything on time, _didn't I?_" She levels Sidney with a glare that said quite clearly that even though he was technically her superior, she was the one running the show around here.

As Sidney tries to come up with a response, Ms. Bradley cuts in. "You turned in everything on time, yes. But there were some forms missing, and well….did you leave for Munich two months ago? For four days, three nights? After you were specifically told _not_ to?"

Regina furrows her brow. "Yes, but it was to settle a book deal I would have _lost_ otherwise. _And _I would have lost this company valuable revenue." She sends another glare to Sidney, who breaks eye contact with her immediately.

She fixes a seemingly pleasant smile to Ms. Bradley. "I really do not see the issue here, dear. I left for just a few days, and hardly did anything illegal, despite this office's favorite rumor that I enjoy ripping out hearts. If we could wrap up this meeting, I really need-"

_"Ms. Mills_. Because of your failure to comply, your visa has been denied."

There is a deafening silence in the room as Regina opens her mouth and then closes it firmly. Sidney is looking between the two nervously, and she knows he's waiting for the inevitable explosion. Her nostrils flare, and she forces her lips not to form into a sneer. Really, the _gall_ of this person. However, Ms. Bradley is not giving up, and she's looking at Regina expectantly.

"And what does that mean, _dear?"_

"It _means_, Ms. Mills, that you are being deported."

_"What!" _

"Regina, please just-"

Regina stalks up to Ms. Bradley, her eyes dark and her stride dangerous, ready to tear down this new issue like she's torn down all the others.

"_Deported? _That's ridiculous! I'm from _Canada for crying out loud!_ You didn't even use to need a damn _passport_ to cross the border!

Ms. Bradley purses her lips and crosses her arms. She clears her throat, and hands Regina a stack of forms. Regina flips through them, noting words like _federal_, _immigration, resignation_, and eyes the false fire in the corner of Sidney's office. What would the repercussions be if she tossed the forms in, and smiled wickedly as she called security to escort Ms. Bradley _out_ of her life? The urge passes like someone hosed down a portion of the fire; momentarily it wouldn't destroy everything, but it would build up again soon enough.

"Ms. Bradley." She says evenly. "I'm sure we can come to some…._agreement_."

"Ms. Mills, I don't think you understand. This is the federal government you're dealing with, and they're not going to care that a simple _editor_ of a lesser company failed to comply to simple rules. You're being _deported_."

Regina opens her mouth and then closes it quickly. She curls her fingers into the forms, no doubt leaving indents the size and shape of her fingernails. She takes a deep breath and counts to ten twice in her head in order to refocus in her energy and to solve this without murdering anyone. Ms. Bradley is merely doing her job after all, as Regina is trying to do. She turns to Sidney, and his eyes are widened like a puppy who's been caught in the pantry with his tail between his legs. His crush on her might yet prove useful.

"Sidney." She says, drawing out the vowels and allowing her lips to curl into a smile. "I'm one of the_ best _editors, wouldn't you say? Wouldn't it be a shame for this company to let go one of their best assets because of a silly little bureaucratic error?"

"A _silly-!"_

Regina clears her throat to mock Ms. Bradley, who has gone simply red in the face.

"With conference calls and perhaps my assistant to come with me, or a new one if she's not willing to move to Canada, despite all I've _done_ for her, I can-"

"_Ms. Mills._ Since you are not legally a resident in the United States, you _cannot_ hold a job with an American company. Richard Adams will take your position until your situation can be worked out."

"You mean the man I _fired?_"

A fierce panic starts in her heart, causes her eyes to widen involuntarily. It seizes her heart, that beats erratically. As erratically as it had the day she packed a bag and left home forever, picking up her secretly applied for visa in the front hall, saying goodbye to the portrait of her little family with their little secrets on the mantel, leaving her mother to her misery forever while she banished herself to hers. _No_, no it wasn't banishment, she realized as the plane took off and she could breathe because her mother hadn't discovered her escape. _Freedom_. Her life was hers to _choose_ for once in its entirety.

And now it was gone. Ripped away once again, like a band-aid off a wound that never got a chance to heal.

Just as she was about to make a plea she would mask as a threat, the door opened.

"Oh..uh, sorry, Ms. Mills. Just you have a phone call and-"

As she takes in Emma's slightly panicked expression, her eyes darting from side to side, a lightbulb goes off in Regina's head. She recalls the strange phone number -a female's- on her coffee cup this morning saying a very unsubtle _Call Me_, leading her to the conclusion that it had been _Emma's_. (Emma ordering an apple spice cappuccino as well gave Regina her amusement for the day.) In fact she had been planning on interrogating her dim-witted assistant about this later, but now. _Now._ This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

She smiles animatedly at Ms. Swan, who looks at what must be a strange sight with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

She looks first at Regina, then Sidney Glass (who looks to be on the verge of combusting with nervous energy), and the fuming Ms. Bradley and then gives another stricken look to _her_, before slowly edging out of the door.

"I'll tell him you're busy, Ms. Mills. Sorry about that."

Realizing her chance is about to leave her, Regina darts forward and grabs Emma's hand, pulling her forcefully back through the door and tugging her to her side. She pauses one moment in contemplation, trying to figure out how this could work and seem natural and rigidly places an arm around Emma's waist. Emma, as expected, pulls out of her grasp and looks to Regina in complete and utter confusion and _panic_. It would be hilarious, if Regina's not trying to preserve her life's work with the moronic plan of the century.

She leans closer to Ms. Swan, smiling in false affection.

_"Just go with it, and I'll read Mr. Booth's book."_

Emma's eyes widen impossibly further, but her brow smoothes out thankfully, and she smiles nervously at Sidney and Ms. Bradley. Regina clears her throat and pulls Emma's arm closer. Emma gets the picture, or _well_ gets the picture enough to lean closer and place a slightly trembling arm around Regina's waist.

Interesting. Even though her hold was limp, she can clearly feel the muscle definition in Emma's biceps. She'd figured Ms. Swan spent her off-duty hours watching inane television or taking Starbucks baristas to bed in her shabby apartment.

She turns her gaze back to Ms. Bradley.

"Actually, Ms. Bradley. I don't think that's going to happen at all. You see, Ms. Swan and I are getting married."

A pin could drop and be heard. Sidney looks positively scandalized and just so slightly confused, and Ms. Bradley's features soften as she takes a deep breath to steady her own irritation. Emma, for her part, looks sort of queasy and numb. She blinks a few times, but it does nothing to get the haze out of her eyes. Like Regina had just plunged her heart in her chest and held it in her palm, as that metaphor seemed to follow her.

"Is that right, Ms. Swan?" Ms. Bradley asks, slight doubt coloring her words.

Emma snaps back to the world.

"What?"

"You and Ms. Mills are getting married."

Emma gulps, and Regina jabs her elbow into her side, using the ruse of placing her arm around her assistant's waist. Emma smiles in a panic and her eyes turn bright.

"Yes. Uh, yes we are."

There is another terrifyingly awkward pause as Ms. Bradley sizes them up, taking in the limp embrace of Emma and the rigid embrace of Regina, the two standing just a little apart, their arms crossing in front of each other at their backs. They look like Regina's old family photograph, all false cheer and rigid limbs. It causes the hammering in Regina's heart to double.

Sidney claps his hands tougher in an effort to disperse the tension.

"This is great news, Regina! Although I was not aware you and Ms. Swan were even dating-?"

"Yes well, you see…._Emma_ and I decided to keep our _relationship_ a secret for the time being. After all she is my assistant and you know how the office gossips. It seemed better for both our working environment and relationship if it was kept strictly behind closed doors."

Ms. Bradley turns to Emma for confirmation and she nods vigorously. She crosses her arms and leans against the desk, still scrutinizing them behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

"I see. And when did this relationship start?"

"Well uh-"

"It was a complete surprise to both of us when-"

"She really loves this specific kind of apple-"

"It was midnight and we were doing paperwork for this new book deal-""

"Like you have to go to _Whole Foods_ for them, and they're not even _open yet, _so I started having to keep some apples-"

Regina grabs Emma's arm to shut her the hell up, but under the guise of stroking it fondly. Emma shoots her a minute death glare. She merely smiles back, her lips straining from this continuous effort.

_"Sweetie._ Let me tell the story."

Emma smiles back and squeezes her waist in a show of affection. Her eyes are daggers, and Regina could _kill_ her.

"Of course, _darling._"

Regina clears her throat. "As I was saying-"

Ms. Bradley puts up a hand. "It won't be necessary." She sighs loudly. "If you want to keep Ms. Mills in this country, the marriage must be _finalized_ by this weekend and no later."

"Done."

Regina grabs the forms, gives curt farewells, and nearly drags Emma out of the room.

* * *

Emma walks back to Regina's office as if an invisible string is pulling her across the room, completely lightheaded and absent-minded. She doesn't even watch the gentle swish of Regina's pencil-skirt clad backside. She can vaguely see incredulous stares and whispers from all over the main office, Kathryn the only one seeming nonplussed by all the _holy fucking shit, Swan is getting __**married? **__To the __**Evil Queen? The Bitch of Royal Publications?**_

She doesn't make eye contact with anyone. She _seriously_ cannot deal with any of them right now.

She never woke up this morning. This whole fucked up day has been a horrible, horrible dream. If only dream Tricia Helfer could come back. She's going to wake up in a minute to find that she has two hours of glorious morning time before she's require for work.

A slam of forms across a desk wakes her up.

Regina has ignored the very official looking forms lying in a pile next to the manuscripts, and resumes editing whatever she had been before being disturbed by firing Adams and the meeting that may have just ruined Emma's life. Her face is completely neutral, as if she hadn't done _just that_, and Emma isn't staring at her from across her desk looking like Regina had suddenly grown a second head.

"Uh." Emma says intelligently.

Regina says nothing.

"So about the meeting, Regina…."

Regina purses her lips and raises eyes. "Yes?"

Emma steps from side to side, balling and unballing her fists. She puts on a light smile, trying to diffuse the fog-like tension in the room.

"So we're….not…._actually_ getting married, right Regina?" She hopes she doesn't sound too eager. She's not losing her job over this shit. Regina would _never_ actually married her. One, Regina hates Emma. A lot. Two, Regina has the emotional range of a child's toy piano; Anything but terrifying fire and relentless sass completely negated. And three, yeah it was kind of a genius plan, but _honestly_-

"Of course we are."

Emma's could have fallen open, but she found it weirdly locked tight before she sputters like Regina had said Godzilla had finally come to New York City.

"_What? _Regina that's basically, no, _it is_ illegal."

Regina raises a brow. "How so, Ms. Swan? You will marry me so I won't be deported, and then we'll divorce and never speak of it again. Very legal, and very simple. Now go out and fetch me a cup of coffee, dear. It's going to be a long night."

"But-"

Regina puts the manuscript down and laces her fingers together with a sigh.

"If this is about the subject of sexuality, I as well as most of this office know of your preferences for females as well as males."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"And I'm fully aware that sexuality is a spectrum, I'm not some blathering idiot who relies on archaic thought, and it's not like I've made my _personal life_ known to my staff. Also you are the most logical person, as you and I have the most verbal contact."

"That's really great, _but_-"

"And we can get married legally right here-"

Emma slams her hands across Regina's desk.

_Regina, we're not. Getting. Married." _

There's a terrifying pause where Emma, for the umpteenth time today, is pretty sure she's going to get murdered, as Regina is pursing her lips and her eyes have taken a kind of darkness resembling those mines at two in the morning Emma and her idiot high school friends thought would be fun to explore and nearly died in from fright and a falling boulder, and being yelled at when the cops had to be called to fish them out.

Then Regina leans forward, and very (all too) calmly states: "Of course we are. And I'll tell you why. Firstly, they're going to hire Richard Adams in my place. Who is most likely to fire you, as well any other employee who has dared to defy him. And he'd most likely blacklist you, so you'd never advance in your career." She leans in impossibly closer and Emma can smell something both heady and crisp, apple with a hint of mint.

"That means you're back to square 1, Ms. Swan. Getting coffee, making copies, rifling through files, answering phone calls. Maybe you'll just give up because all is lost, and hightail it back to your pathetic little seaside town with your 'picture-perfect' parents, and become a kindergarten teacher and get inebriated on Friday nights while your dreams lay crushed in front of you, because you couldn't this _simple_ task for your boss that won't have any affect on your future whatsoever."

Emma stays silent and sturdy, her hands still placed on the desk, eyes still fixed on Regina's.

Hell. _No._ These have been the hardest, most aggravating, most…._daring_, active, hell, _exciting _years even with all that's mundane. But she simply _cannot_ go back to square 1. She's finally making progress in her life, finally feels like she's _getting _somewhere, instead of being hopelessly lost. And she _can't _go back to Storybrooke permanently. Because yeah, that might be where she ends up if she loses this job. She doesn't know if she'll be able to handle another three years of this, because it will feel like the _same_: stagnant, hopeless, all of those shitty feelings. And home is where the heart is, except not really. At least at home, she'll have grounding, even though every single person will be judging or pitying the wayward girl who decided to step out of her boundaries and give up love—ha—to chase stupid dreams. At least she would have Henry. He would be happy if she came home permanently.

_Hell._

"Fine." She says, her voice low. She stands up, although her shoulders have taken on a bit of a depressed hunch. If she had on her old skinny jean pockets or leather jacket, she would have stuffed her hands in the pockets of either.

Regina smiles tightly, stretched lips and dark eyes still sardonic and she grabs the manuscript once more.

"I'll expect you tomorrow at 8 AM in front of the Citizenship and Immigration Services. _Sharp. ….._And get the coffee now."

_"Fine. _And since you said you would, you'll get to August's manuscript _sometime _this week?"

Regina waves her arm up and doesn't look up from her desk. "Perhaps."

She doesn't goddamn care if she sounds a little sassy herself. Clearly Regina needs her for this, so she isn't getting fired today. As soon as the door clicks behind her, she feels like falling against it until she's sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. But she doesn't, she puts on a brave face, ignores the even yet increasing stares and whispers, and goes to get her jacket from her cubicle.

When she gets there, Kathryn is looking at her with bright eyes and a wide smile.

"So…._Regina, _huh?"

"Oh my god,_ shut up_, Midas."

Another one of her chuckles, and Emma is ready to get into bed and call this day quits. She decides that she'll bang her head against the building's wall once she finally greets the city streets for yet_ another_ coffee run.


End file.
